


Wild (Blue Neighborhood)

by BeautyOnFyre



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Cross-Generational Friendship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Recovery, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyOnFyre/pseuds/BeautyOnFyre
Summary: Peter's lethargic body was unresponsive as he sat in the wheelchair, endlessly staring out the window of his hospital room. His side twinged a bit from the rough scrubbing the nurse had given his mottled flesh earlier and he ached to move even a finger."Uncle Peter?" The small voice was behind him in the doorway. He remembered that voice. Contrary to the title bestowed from the small girl that rounded his chair into his line of sight, Stiles Stilinski was not related to Peter at all.Or how Stiles and Peter became best friends for life and brought Stiles into the Pack.





	Wild (Blue Neighborhood)

**Author's Note:**

> Title, lyrics and inspiration from Wild (Blue Neighborhood Pt 1) by Troye Sivan.
> 
> Leave love ❤️

Leave this blue neighborhood,  
Never knew loving could hurt this good.  
Oh, and it drives me wild.  
'Cause when you look like that,  
I've never never wanted to be so bad.  
It drives me wild.  
You're driving me wild, wild wild…

*****

Peter's lethargic body was unresponsive as he sat in the wheelchair, endlessly staring out the window of his hospital room. His side twinged a bit from the rough scrubbing the nurse had given his mottled flesh earlier and he ached to move even a finger. 

"Uncle Peter?" The small voice was behind him in the doorway. He remembered that voice. Contrary to the title bestowed from the small girl that rounded his chair into his line of sight, Stiles Stilinski was not related to Peter at all. The girl was the same age as his niece Cora, and was around his sister's house frequently as Talia and Claudia had become friends in their water aerobics classes before both girls were born. 

As his youngest niece grew up and began calling him by the honorific (unlike her older siblings that were closer to Peter's own age), so did the Stilinski girl. It had been months since the fire that had claimed his small cottage in the preserve along with his wife and child; the fire that had left him broken and useless. He was a prisoner in his own body. 

Stiles stepped up to him now and he followed her with his eyes. "Hi Uncle Peter. I've missed you. Momma Talia doesn't make chocolate milk as good as you do. And I like your laugh. It just makes everyone smile."

He was impressed by the perceptiveness of the eight year old girl. Though he would never admit it, he was thankful for the hyperactive child's presence. He needed a break from the monotony. 

"Can I sit with you? I brought a book that I can read to you. It's not as good as the ones you read with Cora and me, but I know all the words." Without any indication of the contrary, Stiles seemed to assume it was okay to clamber onto his lap, but did so with thought to the injuries that went down his entire right side. She squished into the narrow strip of space on his left in the wide wheel chair and placed her legs perpendicularly across his own before smiling at him like nothing was amiss and opening the book to the first page. 

She had brought Harry Potter, of all things, to read to him. He would clearly have to reassess how endearing this child was if she chose to read that playground drivel. 

He listened to her read aloud, only stumbling over her words every few pages, and he relaxed. He closed his eyes and listened, imagining the settings and characters that she described. 

Overall, Peter found himself enjoying the company until a nurse popped her head in and scolded the girl for sitting on his lap. He mustered all his strength and managed to grasp three fingers into the girl's cardigan, staying her movement. 

"Get down, girl," the nurse that gave him his bath earlier scolded when Stiles stopped moving. 

"I can't. He's holding my sweater. I don't want to hurt him!" She was indignant in her reply as she dropped her book onto her lap again to peer over Peter's shoulder at the nurse. 

A gasp sounded behind him and squeaks of rubber soles on linoleum retreating to the nurses station where he heard the hag with man hands tell her superior that he responded to Stiles, though the nurse was more crude as she painted the eight year old to be an interloping delinquent. 

He focused back on Stiles to see her smiling in front of his face. "She's just rude. I hope she's nicer to you than she is to me." The girl then levered herself up to place three kisses along the burns on his face, "There. I thought someone should kiss it better. My momma used to do that for me before she got really sick."

This was news to him. Claudia Stilinski was sick?

"Dad says its 'front-o-tem-per-al dementia'. Means she forgets stuff because there's something pressing on her brain right here," Stiles speaks and touches to a spot on top of his head. "She forgets my name and gets angry or sad sometimes. Dad said that the hospital helps her. I think it does. She doesn't hit me anymore. They don't let her."

Peter tensed at the thought of someone hitting a small child. No one deserved that. 

A clicking of heels down the hall and the sound of his sister's voice talking to a nurse alerted him to Talia's presence. He didn't want to be alone again yet. He focused back on Stiles' voice. 

"…at Momma Talia's 'cause my dad's working tonight. Cora said we can bug Laura to braid our hair and watch a movie before bed. 'S not the same but I like staying over at their house. Wish you were still there. You'll get better though. I kissed some of it better, so it will." Peter minutely tightened the three fingers he had clenched in the blue cardigan as a silent thank you. He knew that Talia stood silently in the doorway so he painstakingly released her sweater and watched her place another kiss to his burns before climbing down and collecting her book. 

"I'll come see you tomorrow, Uncle Peter. Feel better soon," she chirped before running to Talia in the doorway. "The nurse was mean and told me to leave, but I know Uncle Peter wanted me to stay. He's still good company," she told his older sister.

"Oh, was she?"

"Yeah! I hope she's not bullying him while he's getting better. She's a grump." Talia giggled at Stiles' correct assessment. 

"I'll have to talk to his doctors then. Would you give me a minute with Uncle Peter? You can go see your mom again before we go home and have dinner."

He heard the stutter of her heart before she replied, "Nah. It's okay. I'll just wait out here. She's probably asleep."

"Alright sweetie, I'll be out in a second." Talia placed her hand on Peter's when she got close enough, draining some of his pain. "I'm glad to see you getting better, Peter. I'll tell them to let her in if you want? Give me a sign and I'll tell them not to." She felt his hand tense minutely under hers and grinned as he didn't blink for a moment. "Alright. I'll see what I can do about Hellhound Helga out there. See if we can get you on a different rotation, maybe."

She then narrowed her eyes and touched the four places that Stiles had kissed with surprising accuracy. "Peter, they're disappearing. This is great!" she whispered with awe. Peter could still do nothing more than stare, his hand no longer under his control. "I'll see you soon. Stiles will be at the house for a few days while John works the night shift. I've got to go," she said as she drained a bit more pain before kissing his forehead. "I love you. Hope you come back to us soon. We miss you." Talia subtly scented his neck and settled his wolf, as usual, then squeezed his hand before leaving.

He was left to wonder all night what Talia meant by her assessment of his burn scars. 

 

***

 

"Mornin' Uncle Peter." 

Stiles found him still in his bed at the early hour. He opened his eyes and focused his energy on turning his head to face the little girl. Stiles was diligent in her visits for over a month, coming in several days a week, even on non-visiting hours and weekends. 

She grinned at the motion and seemed to still be tired, as if she had rolled out of bed, dressed, and come over just to see him. Granted, judging by the light in his room, it couldn't have been later than 7 AM. "Can I come up?" She still always asked even though she never received a verbal response. Peter couldn't get control over his facial muscles but fought to lift his arm, only succeeding in opening his hand palm-up in invitation.

Stiles was delighted and scrambled onto the hospital bed. As per usual, she pressed a few kisses to his burns to 'make them better'. Talia always examined his scars when she visited now and told him the skin was healing in spots. 

He couldn't tell her it was Stiles.

He had surmised that the girl must be a spark. It explained her inclination toward the supernatural and her legitimately healing kisses. He always felt better after her visits if he was being honest. 

Stiles sidled up to him, resting her head on the pillow so that her neck was supported by his thick arm. She curled on her side on the narrow bed and wrapped a skinny arm about his torso. "I didn't sleep well so I thought I'd come see you this morning. I hope you had good dreams. I didn’t like mine last night. It was scary. My mom died and I didn't know what to do."

Stiles remained quiet for a long time after that and when he finally heard her light snores, Peter too let himself succumb to sleep for a while longer. 

 

***

 

A week later, a sniffling Stiles slipped into his room and closed the door behind her. 

"Uncle Peter? Can I stay here with you?" 

Her words were shaking with the effort not to cry. He moved his arm this time in invitation, knowing the girl, she would invite herself up anyways. She clumsily ambled onto the bed before lifting the top blanket and huddling into his side. She had been there earlier that day and had only been gone maybe eight hours or so to her mother's bedside. Her scent, though distraught, soothed him and his caged wolf. He inhaled deeply before settling himself. Stiles would tell him when she was ready. 

 

***

 

The sheriff ended up prying his daughter from Peter's room in the morning. 

He didn't see her for a while after that. 

 

***

 

The knock on the door startled John out of his stupor. Stiles lay beside him on the couch, neither one wanting to go their separate ways so soon after Claudia's death. He stumbled to the door, dimly aware of how he must look after almost a month of grieving. 

To say he was surprised to see Laura and Derek Hale on his doorstep would be an understatement. 

"Hi, Sheriff. We were wondering if we could talk to you for a few minutes. We brought breakfast," Laura said and her gangly younger brother brandished the paper bag in his hand. 

"Uh, sure. Come in. Please don't mind the mess." He sheepishly held the door open to Talia's kids and they proceeded to the dining room that they had helped celebrate numerous birthdays and anniversaries in. 

Once they were seated, Laura handed out breakfast sandwiches to her brother and the sheriff before grabbing one of her own. "John, I really hate to bother you while we're all still in the process of grieving, but we really couldn't hold out much longer."

"Hold out for what? You two aren't in any kind of trouble, are you?" he took a bite of the sausage and egg sandwich, unsure of where this was going. 

"No, no. Not us. You see, Stiles was visiting our uncle when she was visiting Claudia." Laura winced at the name of the sheriff's recently deceased wife. "Peter was improving - very rapidly - when Stiles was visiting him regularly. Since, you know, he's become completely unresponsive again. It's like he's a vegetable and we're all worried that he's gone catatonic again."

Derek decided that was a good time to speak up, "If you are okay with it and if Stiles would agree, we would like to bring her by for a visit. To see if he responds."

The sheriff rubbed his hands together to rid them of lingering crumbs over the empty sandwich wrapping. "And if he does, but she doesn't want to go back after? She's kind of in a delicate spot right now. There's no telling how she'll react to this."

"So you're not opposed?" Laura looked so much like her mother with her bubbly personality that shone through with her excitement. 

"No, but I need to know your backup plan."

Derek butted in before Laura could launch into a spiel of happiness and rainbows. "Alternate interactive therapies are an option if we find that he's still there. We think he still is, but he has only reacted so strongly to Stiles since the fire, so we have no way to gauge how he is except by him being lethargic or not."

"Okay." The word was an acknowledgement, not agreement. The trio were silent a long while as John bundled up the wrapper of his sandwich and stood to toss it out in the kitchen. When he came back, he sat down with an unreadable expression on his face. 

"Why did Talia not talk to me herself?"

Derek resumed his silence and Laura picked up the conversation. "We're watching Peter in shifts when possible. Derek and I volunteered to come talk to you and Stiles while mom watched him this morning."

John nodded, "And she's on board with this?"

"Yes. If you are." Laura held her own sandwich wrapper in her hands, clenching it nervously, and the sheriff could've swore it was a trick of the light when her eyes flashed gold for a split second. 

"If Stiles agrees, I don't have any reason to stop her."

Stiles tripped into the dining area then, afghan from the couch trailing along the linoleum floor as she climbed into her dad's lap. "Morning, kiddo."

She looked over at the Hales and gave them a small sleepy smile, "Mornin' Laura, Der." The sheriff didn't miss how Derek's eyes crinkled a bit at the nickname. 

"Good morning," Laura greeted quietly. "We stopped by to see if you wanted to come visit Uncle Peter with us later." She fought to cut herself off there. She didn't want to guilt Stiles into visiting by telling her that Peter missed her. 

The skinny girl twisted her head and looked up at her dad with wide brown eyes, "Can I?" At her dad's nod, Stiles beamed. She turned back to the Hale siblings. "Can we go now? He's less grumpy in the morning."

Derek snorted as he remembered his uncle being a morning person before the fire. He was surprised that the girl had picked up on such a trait at such a young age.

"You need some breakfast and a shower first, little one," John hugged his daughter before she slid off his lap and ambled on awkward limbs up the stairs to get ready for the day.

 

***

 

Peter imagined that he was going senile in his solitude. He could smell something wafting through the open window that reminded him of Stiles. It was obvious that she had gotten bored of him like everyone else and left. 

He was starting to forget the subtle upturn of her nose, how many freckles dotted her pale face, the whiskey color of her eyes and the light giggles she elicited when he showed her any reactions. But these days, he felt like he was forgetting a lot of things. Like how he forgot Talia was in the room. Or how he forgot what day it was. Or why his chin burned with mild irritation. He knew those things before but not anymore. His mind was a blank canvas. 

He was contemplating how satisfying it would be if Talia just tipped him out of his wheelchair and through the 4th story window. At least all this shit would end. Even in his catatonic state, Peter knew this wasn't living. This was barely surviving.

"Uncle Peter!" Brown hair bobbed in front of him with slight ringlets forming at the ends. That face with the moles dotted perfectly across her chin. "Can I sit with you?" She didn't wait for an answer as she ambled onto his chair with him, always careful of his burns. She pressed three kisses to the mottled skin on his face like always and huddled into his side. "I missed you. I'm sorry I haven't been back in a while. My mom - she died - so I haven't really been around." She looked so forlorn in the corner of his eye but seemed to push her grief aside. "Sorry I didn't bring a book to read us. Laura and Der picked me up and I was so," she waves her hand enthusiastically, "that I didn't remember. Sorry."

Peter relaxed as he listened to her ramble and then abruptly tensed when Stiles did.

"Did he just-?" Ever the eloquent sister, Talia bolted into his line of sight as she knelt in front of his chair. "He hummed. He was listening to you, Stiles."

She gave Talia a befuddled look, "'Course he was. Peter always listens. He's the best listener I know."

Honestly, Peter didn't realize he'd done it but he could feel his scratchy vocal chords there, irritated from their use. Stiles turned his head to face her with a gentle hand on his chin, brushing over the burning sensation - the spot where he remembered getting nicked by the razor this morning during his shave.

 

***

 

"Momma Talia?" Stiles was munching on her toast as she watched Laura braid Cora's long brown hair, waiting for her turn to get her hair done. 

"Yes, Stiles?" The alpha, not that Stiles knew they were werewolves, was doing the dishes from breakfast. 

"Can Uncle Peter come home to visit? I think he gets bored staring out his window all day."

Talia turned to the girls at the table to see Laura giving her a 'that sounds like a good idea' look as she snapped the hair elastic in place at the end of Cora's braid. "Okay, Stiles, one braid like Cora's or two?"

Stiles, being a hyperactive kid, forgot about her request of Talia and turned to Laura. "Can you do two but stop here?" Stiles motioned to the back of her head. "My mom does my-" she stopped speaking abruptly. Talia put down the dish she was holding with a sad sigh and dried her hands before sweeping over to the table where Stiles was turning red and trying not to cry. 

"It's okay, sweetheart. I know," she embraced Stiles as Cora, still not quite connecting why her friend was upset, watched with Laura. "It's okay to cry, Stiles. Crying is good. It means you miss your mom, and that's okay. I cried a lot when my mom died too." She hugged the girl close, her heart going out to Stiles and her struggle at such a young age. 

"Can we go see Uncle Peter?"

Laura smiled at her mother over Stiles' shoulder and took Cora's hand to lead her away from her distressed friend. "Do you want to come with me to see if we can bring him home to visit? I think it's a great idea," Talia spoke as Stiles pulled away from her shoulder, swiping at the tears in her eyes with her flannel sleeve.

"Okay."

 

***

 

A few weeks passed and the correct doctors had been consulted on the possibility of bringing Peter home, even on a part-time basis. All the forms, assessments and diagnostics had been performed and Talia had asked the sheriff for permission to pick up Stiles from school with Cora to surprise her with Peter to which he had hesitantly agreed. It was the first night that he would have to himself since Claudia died. 

"If you change your mind about her staying the night, just call me and I'll drop her off, John," Talia reassured him as he handed her an overnight bag with clothes and Stiles' Adderall. "I'll get her to call you before bed if you want."

He nodded in return, "I'd appreciate that. I know how happy she is to see Peter. This will make her week. Is he doing better?"

Talia beamed, "Much. He hums to her and started moving his hands a bit. His scars are healing too. They're responding well to the holistic oils we're using," she laid out their cover story again for the receding scars that Talia had surmised was a mixture of Peter's wolf becoming more active in his mind and what Talia's emissary Alan was sure to be Stiles awakening her spark. 

"That's good. Good to hear," John nodded as he stood in the doorway. 

"Well, thanks again and I'll have Stiles call before bed." Talia waved as she stepped off the porch and situated Stiles' bag in the passenger seat before pulling away from the curb in her SUV. Stiles would be ecstatic. 

 

***

 

Cora looked at her friend like she had grown a second head when they walked through the door and she yelled in excitement at Peter situated on the plush leather armchair that he had usually occupied before the fire. 

"Do you think she still wants to play before dinner?" Cora asked her mother as she watched Stiles amble onto her uncle's lap. 

"I think she wants to spend time with Uncle Peter. She's helping him a lot, you know. We want him to get better so he can come home and run with us on the moons, remember? Don't you miss getting chased by Uncle Peter?" Talia spoke quietly enough that there was no chance of Stiles overhearing them from the other side of the room. Cora nodded and looked back at her uncle with a more hopeful expression. 

She looked up and saw Peter curling his hand into Stiles' plaid over shirt and his lips pulling at the corner like he wanted to smile. She led Cora to the kitchen where she proceeded to talk Talia's ears off about everything that happened at school that day. 

When Derek came down for dinner a few hours later, his face cracked into a smile as he grabbed his mother from the kitchen. Peter had wrapped his entire right arm about Stiles and the pair were cuddled together snoring. The door opened and every hurried to shush Talia's husband before he woke the two in the chair. 

"Is that?" Andrew looked to his youngest son. 

"Yep."

"Progress?"

Derek tore his eyes from his uncle to look at his father, "Tons. She's magic."

Laura came down the stairs and tucked herself against her father's side as the family just watched Peter and Stiles. "I'll wake them in a few minutes," Talia motioned for them to quietly make their way into the kitchen for dinner.

 

***

 

Three years later.

 

***

 

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Cora. Happy birthday to you!" Every whooped and hollered as Cora blew out the candles on her 11th birthday cake as Stephen, her oldest brother that had just finished his undergrad degree and was home for the summer, got plates and helped cut the cake as Andrew took pictures. 

"S-Stiles," the voice was accompanied by a hand lightly gripping her own. The girl turned to see Peter holding her hand as the room was filled with noise from all the family members that came out to celebrate the youngest member's birthday. Stiles' own dad was there too, though he was going to leave in the next hour to get ready for his night shift. 

Peter motioned with his other hand to the upstairs and Stiles nodded with a smile. She stood from her chair, giving Peter his cane and clearing a path for him through the party, only stopping to hug Cora and kiss her father on the cheek before she led Peter from the crowd. 

He had made huge progress in the first year when he regained usage of his limbs and took his first steps out of his wheelchair. A year later, he was fully integrated back into home life and slowly working on becoming an autonomous adult again. He had started stammering and stuttering out short sentences, though he preferred not to speak in general; content to hum in agreement as people conversed with him. 

Stiles was a constant. She was at the Hale house whenever her dad was working and was helping the older man reclaim who he was bit by bit. 

Little did she know, her presence was both a godsend and a roadblock at the same time. Peter had confided his issue with the situation to Talia once he was able to get a handle on his voice. 

The problem? 

Peter's wolf wanted out when Stiles was there. However, Stiles and all the other non-Hales of Beacon Hills weren't privy to the fact that the Hales were werewolves. 

Talia was firmly against telling the eleven year old girl about their secret and instead ordered everyone to not shift in front of her. The only good thing about the Alpha Order was that her kids couldn't accidentally break it. She felt bad that her family had to hide who they were in their own home, but the time wasn't right. 

"T-twel-lve. We t-t-tell her. N-no more," Peter had told his sister with as much conviction as he could muster. 

She understood. They would have to face the consequences if Stiles freaked out when they told her. She couldn't stave off Peter's healing for another six or so years. She wouldn't leave her brother in pain like that. 

Presently, Stiles followed Peter up the stairs where the cacophony below became more muted and bearable. He led the way into his room and Stiles left the door open a crack so she'd be able to hear her dad call when he left. She turned to see Peter toeing off his house slippers and resting his cane against the foot of the bed. He slowly climbed into his bed and looked back at Stiles expectantly. 

She smiled and jumped up, discarding her socks before curling up by Peter and talking about her day before she got to the house for Cora's party. She talked for a while as the sun began to set through the west-facing window in Peter's room.

"Stiles?" John called down the hall. 

"Just a sec," she said quietly to Peter before she rolled off of the bed and walked out of the room to say goodnight to her father. 

"Hey kiddo. I have to head to work." Stiles hugged her dad tightly. "How's he doing tonight?"

She looked back at Peter's door before meeting her dad's eyes. "Good, just overwhelmed. I think it's the noise. I might get him to come down for the movie later."

"Good. I'm so proud of you. I know Peter appreciates your help." John then gave her the stern sheriff face. "No matter what though, you're to stay the night in Cora's room, understood?"

"Daaad," she complained at his insistence. She knew that Peter just liked being reassured that he wasn't alone if he woke up at night. 

"Don't 'dad' me. He's a grown man and you're still a little girl. It's not right. You need to know where to draw the line between what's appropriate for girls your age and what's not," he lectured. "If you don't respect yourself-"

"-No one else will either," she finished from memory. Stiles kind of understood what her dad meant but not completely. 

John kissed the top of his daughter's head before retreating down the stairs with a backward wave and a chorus of farewells from the Hales and company. Stiles retreated to Cora's room where she pulled on her pajama pants before retreating to Peter's room. She spotted Peter's eyes following her as she closed the door most of the way, allowing enough light for her to open the second drawer of his dresser and pull out a shirt that dwarfed her small stature. She went into the small ensuite bath and pulled on the large shirt then proceeded to jump onto the bed beside Peter again. 

This time, she allowed the older man to tuck her into his side as she listened to his heart beat in his chest. The subtle 'thump-thump' of his heart was reassuring the way it had been in the years that Claudia had pulled her daughter close to her chest and ran her fingers through her hair as Stiles fell asleep snuggled close. 

Peter nudged her awake and accompanied Stiles downstairs to where most of the guests had left and the family was sitting down to watch a Disney movie of Cora's choosing. Talia turned to see Stiles and Peter descending the stairs and called Cora to her side to free up Peter's chair. 

Every day he was making new progress and Talia caught herself before she started to get too emotional. Cora didn't fuss about losing her spot when she saw Stiles and Peter at the base of the stairs. "We're watching Frozen!" she called, much to Stiles' delight as the two curled up on the floor in front of Peter's chair with popcorn and a blanket. 

By the end of the movie, both girls were asleep with Derek and Laura carrying them to Cora's room for the night. 

 

***

 

Six years later.

 

***

 

"You remembered that I'm going up to see Berkeley this weekend, right?"

John grumbled into his salad. He wasn't allowed to have meat until tomorrow. Only every other day thanks to the doctor that started discussing his heart issues in front of his impressionable teenage daughter when he was checking on Stiles' arm cast two years ago. 

It had become her personal mission to make sure John died at a ripe old age of a hundred and three at the minimum by taking over the grocery shopping and blacklisting him at the local corner store for anything other than gum and juice. He couldn't even order a steak at the local diner without his waitress giving him the evil eye and cowing him into getting a chicken wrap instead unless Stiles was present to vouch for him. 

"Yes, Peter called yesterday to remind me," because Stiles and Peter were a package deal. 

Honestly, what seventeen year old girl had a best friend that was fourteen years her senior? John had accepted years ago, when Peter had finally regained all his faculties and reopened his antiquities business, that the likelihood of the two ever being separated was less than three percent - even that was being generous. The pair were constantly entwined in each other's lives. 

The sheriff was sure that the only reason why Stiles wasn't taking Peter to the junior prom was because Peter had vetoed his presence in a room filled with hormonal teens. Stiles had roped Derek, Peter's nephew, into being her date due to reasons unstated. John was sure his daughter had leverage on the older boy and had laughed when the kid had submitted to all the torture Stiles had subjected him to. As a father, he couldn't complain when his daughter was returned home at the end of the night, giggling up a storm with Derek before flopping onto the couch between Peter and John to watch the end of the Mets game in her blue organza dress. 

Yeah, he had his concerns. Like when she stayed at Peter's loft on the nights he worked. Or when he took Stiles on weekend trips like the one his daughter was reminding him about. Granted, John had to work most weekends, so it made sense for Peter to take her (especially since it was his idea in the first place) but he always had that niggling feeling in his gut that there was more than met the eye with Peter Hale. 

"I'm heading to his place tonight and he'll drop me off and pick me up from school tomorrow and drive us up there, so my Jeep won't be here this weekend. I might just stay at his place on Sunday if we get back late," she said as she pulled the ranch dressing out of his reach but placed a small piece of chicken on his plate before passing him the balsamic vinaigrette instead. 

"Really, Stiles? Not even ranch dressing?"

"Hey!" she shot back defensively. "I let you have it for your first serving. I gave you chicken on your off day so stop complaining." She preened a bit and John knew he was in for it. "Doctor Yukimura agreed with me on your dietary needs and your heart looks better than it did two years ago. If only I could get you on a treadmill."

"No," the sheriff scowled and poured the pitiful excuse for salad dressing over his second helping of leafy greens and the tiniest piece of chicken to grace his plate to date. He knew when to give up with Stiles. 

 

***

 

"Stiles, you got mail," Peter called from her kitchen where he was making them an afternoon snack. 

"Yeah?" She rifled through her backpack for a pen distractedly while she waited for her laptop to boot up. 

"It's from Berkeley."

Her heart stopped for half a second before she scrambled off the couch and skidded into the kitchen where Peter stood holding his half of the sandwich and the large envelope. "Oh my god, gimme," she made grabby hands to which Peter surrendered the envelope. He put down the sandwich as he watched her struggle with the package before holding it up to him. "Help."

He tore through the top of the package with a snick of a claw through paper. She yanked out the papers and started jumping and screaming too loudly for Peter's delicate ears. "I'm in! Oh my god, Peter! I'm in!"

He smiled and held his arms out to which she launched herself at and clung to Peter like a limpet. He let out a pleased growl as she squeezed him tightly and started crying into his shoulder. "I got in! Can you even believe it?" 

Peter locked his hands together at the base of Stiles' spine and allowed her to pull back to see his reaction fully. "I knew you would, Stiles. You're too intelligent to pass up."

"But Peter, this is advanced admissions. I mean-"

"Shh. No more. I refuse to listen to you doubt yourself. You've earned this. You work your ass off for your marks."

Stiles nodded and hugged him tightly again before relinquishing her hold on the older man and returning her bare feet to the floor. "Read your papers," Peter nudged the package with his elbow and took up his sandwich again. 

"Bite?" she asked without looking up from the papers she was spreading on the counter. Peter dutifully held out the best part of his sandwich half as Stiles took a bite and hummed in appreciation as she continued to scan the paperwork in front of her. They continued like this with Stiles just leaning closer to Peter when she wanted another bite of the sandwich and Peter holding out the side with the best flavor profile to her until the sandwich was gone. 

"Banana?" he asked. When he got a head shake in return, he pulled a Granny Smith Apple from the fridge crisper and cut it up with practiced motions, sliding the plate to the side of Stiles' paperwork. Silently, he insinuated himself behind the younger girl who was barely an inch shorter than him and rested his chin on her shoulder. 

"Thank you," she whispered with a smile as she pulled the apple slices closer to her and nibbled on them one at a time while she stared at the residence form. 

With a rub of his cheek against hers, Peter spoke, "So you have to live in residence your first year?"

"Yeah. All universities are like that. It's a money grab, really."

"And how do you feel about North Berkeley?"

Stiles considered the question. "Well, it's a great neighborhood. All the best eats are there and it's close to downtown and most of campus. I feel pretty positively about it in general. Maybe I'll look for an apartment there next year." Turning in his arms, Stiles eyed Peter critically. "You're gonna visit me all the time, right?"

"No," Peter shook his head and slid his hands from the counter to Stiles' hips as he watched her face crumple. 

"What? What about- You can't-"

"You'll be visiting me at your convenience, though I do hope it's more than just on weekends. Since my new place is going to be a few blocks from campus and all."

Stiles would forever refute that she looked like a fish, opening and closing her mouth without sound, in that moment. "Wait, what? Peter?"

"I figured you might not mind-" 

"Seriously?! You're moving to Berkeley with me?"

Before Peter could reply, he found himself with an armful of excitable teenage girl again. His wolf preened. Providing food and shelter for his pack was an ego boost that the wolf adored. Stiles made it so easy. 

 

***

 

Stiles never really realized how much Beacon Hills had been in its own bubble until she went to university. She was out at the local country bar with her friends and had finally convinced Peter to come out and hang for a bit before she came back to his place for the weekend. She begged him to buy her a drink when he got there and was surprised when a vodka rocks slid onto the table in front of her as a hand came to her waist. 

"Better?" His smooth voice purred in her ear and she turned to grin at him. 

"Goose?"

"Would I buy you anything else?"

Stiles took a sip and relished the smooth taste as the vodka burned down her throat. "Thanks," she turned back to her friends to see their dubious expressions. 

Peter's scars had long since healed and the hair has grown back over where his burns had been once he started shifting into his wolf form again. His face was chiseled and his hair perfectly coifed with the v in his t-shirt neckline dipping enough to show his sculpted collar bones and sparse chest hair. Sometime Stiles forgot how Peter came across to other people. 

"Oh! Guys, this is Peter!" She turned back to her best friend with a blinding smile and introduced him to the three other girls, "Peter, this is Shandra, Nicola and Abby."

"Well, now that we've been introduced, how would you ladies like drinks?"

A resounding yes and quick ordering sent Peter off to the bar as Stiles' new friends crowded her. "Okay, how do you know Hot Hunk and are you exclusive?"

"How old is he?"

"I didn't know you had a Daddy kink. Seriously though," insert swoon, "I'd climb him like a tree."

"Umm…" Stiles met her friend's expectant gazes and felt the most misunderstood she had ever felt in her life. "Peter is my best friend."

"Oh god, why are all the hot ones gay?" Nicola cried dramatically. 

Stiles almost did a spit take at that. "Pfft! Peter? Gay? Please! He's as hetero as it gets."

Shandra took one of Stiles' hands in her own pale, manicured hand. "Look, hate to tell you but he's trying to get into your pants, honey. No older straight man is friends with a college girl because they want to be 'just friends'. You've been friends for, what, as long as us?"

"Try ten years," Stiles shot back defensively. Everyone back home just knew what they had been through together and that Stiles had grown up a part of the Hale family for all intents and purposes. She never quite realized how socially taboo her close relationship with Peter might be out in the real world. "I've known him since I was born. I grew up with his niece."

"But aren't you from down south? How have you been 'best friends' if he lives here? And isn't that a little weird to you?" Abby gave Stiles some seriously dubious brows. 

Setting down her drink, she looked to see Peter frowning as he listened in from across the bar and collected the drinks to bring to the table. "No, it's not. Peter moved up here for me. Look, I don't expect you guys to understand and you really don't need to. Peter and I have been through a lot together. Accept it or drop it, I don't care, but I'm done talking about it."

Peter set the four drinks on the tall table and stood as unobtrusively beside Stiles' tall chair as possible while his instincts were screaming at him to wrap up Stiles and run. "You should show me more of those killer dance moves," he suggested with a bump to her elbow to get her out of the funk she was in. "You didn't manage to kill me last time."

A hiccuping snort came from Stiles as she glared sideways over her poised glass at Peter. "That was an accident and you know it. I didn't mean to drop the box on your foot when we unpacked your place."

"So you admit you owe me a dance in compensation?" his eyebrows wagged playfully like his wolf was coming forward. 

"Fine! Let's go," she aimed a small apologetic smile at her friends before pushing Peter in front of her onto the dance floor. 

Stiles giggled as he pulled her into the line dance that took up the middle of the floor and tapped her shoulder when she started to turn the wrong way with a laugh. The song ended pretty quickly and a hip hop-country crossover song came on with a few whoops. The older man pulled her in to dance with for the next song, never letting other guys get too close to her as the two swayed and earning Peter a few trampled toes. Stiles was a menace but she was his menace. 

"We should go for a run in the hills tomorrow," she managed to shout over the music and he couldn't help but desperately wish for tomorrow to come already. 

This was why he loved Stiles. So quick to forgive and move on. Not to mention that she was talking about going to run with Peter's wolf like it was a normal thing to do. 

To be fair, it was fairly normal for them these days. 

 

***

 

When the pair returned to Beacon Hills for the summer, Stiles found herself settling into Peter's loft more out of habit than anything else. With that came a constant flow of Hales traipsing through their home on a regular basis as if the loft were an extension of the pack house. 

And it really was. 

Stiles had privately admitted to herself years ago that wolf-shaped werewolves were way better than any dog - no obligations or added responsibilities, just cuddles abound. And runs. And play wrestling. And-

"Hey! Not cool, Derek! I just washed my bedding and you're getting it full of fur," Stiles pouted from the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at her before motioning her over with a jerk of his head and a playful bark. "Ugh. Fine! But just because my sheets don't smell like you, doesn't mean you need to roll all over them like a menace." She plopped onto the bed, crawling up to lay beside Derek's large, glossy black wolf. "You look so much like Momma Talia like this," she wrapped her arm around the wolf's middle and buried her face near his on the pillow. 

"I really missed this. Pack. Home." Derek snuffled and nosed her hair a bit before laying his snout over her neck - a dominant and protective gesture. "Yeah, I missed you too, Der."

The door to the loft opened and shut as Peter came home with what smelled like Thai food. 

"Okay, enough snuggles. Peter has food."

Derek yipped at her grumpily as she slipped more gracefully from the bed than she ever did anything else and left him bereft. 

"Hurry up, both of you, before I eat all the Pad Thai and fresh rolls!" Peter called for Stiles' benefit as Derek shifted back and threw on his clothes in record time. Peter didn't make idle threats, after all.

 

***

 

"Hey! What's up?" Stiles drawled into her phone. 

"I need to call in my favor."

Stiles could've swore she didn't hear that right. "Wait, you mean-?"

"The one you said you owed me after-"

"Derek!" Stiles let out a frustrated sigh at his jumpiness. "What could possibly be so important that you're freaking out and asking to cash in your favor?"

The werewolf took an audible breath before breathing out a quick, "I ran into my ex from university who is in town with her friend and I panicked and said my girlfriend was meeting me for coffee."

"Where are you?"

"In the café on Main."

"No, I mean where are you right this second?"

"Hiding in the bathroom in the café on Main. She's sitting at my table and- just please. Stiles, she's-"

"Crazy? I know."

This made Derek pause on the other end of the line. "What- How could you know that?" his voice climbed with incredulity. 

A giggle followed by a muted snort told Derek that Stiles was infinitely more impressed than he was. "If I'm thinking of the right girl, Laura met her once and hated her. And it's your type, Der-bear."

"I don't have a type!" Derek whispered back furiously. "But yeah. I would've called Laura but she hates Kate's guts more than I do."

"I called you Der-bear and got no reaction. This must be serious."

"Stiles!"

"Okay, okay. Wanna buy me a latte and we can go trail running after?"

Derek paused. "Seriously? Won't Peter be mad?"

"I can invite him if you want but he's working and it'll just make him grumpy if I tell him I'm going running without him. Besides, we both know you like playing tag just as much as Peter does, so don't pretend you don't wanna go."

The tone of surprise was evident in Derek's voice, "Okay then. We can go for a run. Chai latte?" Stiles heard a low chattering in the background, signaling Derek's exit from his hiding spot. 

"Yes, please. A large? With-"

"Extra foam and cinnamon?"

She couldn't help her grin as she found her keys and looked for the hoodie she knew was in the hall closet. "Yes. I'll be there in a bit. Just pulling on my shoes now. Hang tight."

 

***

 

Stiles tried not to stare at the blonde bombshell that was leaning forward to give half the café a view of her full cleavage. Stiles was craftily wearing Derek's old UCLA basketball hoodie over her running clothes with her hair down. 

"Hey babe," she said when she got close enough, leaning in to kiss Derek on the lips and accept the latte from his hand. "Mmm. Thanks." 

The woman eyed her up, catching on the hoodie that she most likely knew was Derek's and she gave Stiles the most condescending smile in the universe. "So you must be-"

"Stiles," she interrupted, holding out a hand to the gorgeous hellcat across the table from her. "Though I can't say I know your name."

"Kate. Kate Argent." The name stirred up a memory. 

"Any relation to the Argents in Ojai?"

Kate looked taken aback. "That's my brother's family."

Stiles grinned, "So you're the infamous Aunt Kate."

"You know Allison?"

"Yeah, we met at the gun range in Oakland. We both go to Berkeley," Stiles took a long sip of the chai and nudged Derek's foot gently under the table. He took the hint and subtly laid his hand on Stiles' thigh under the table. She changed directions, turning to Derek, "Before I forget, did you remind Laura to bring dessert on Sunday? I forgot to ask when I talked with her yesterday."

"Yeah, she said something about cherries," he mumbled. This part was actually truth. Laura, Cora and Derek were coming over to Peter's for dinner on Sunday because Talia and Andrew were gone on a trip. The pack always had Sunday dinner together.

"Cheesecake?" Her excitement was genuine. Everyone knew it was Stiles' favorite. 

"I think so. Everyone knows she can't cook."

"That's why I'm cooking. Can't trust you Hales in the kitchen," she teased, looking back at Kate. "I mean, am I wrong?" Kate seemed a bit flustered at the question. "Everyone knows the only ones with cooking skills are Talia and Peter."

"Hey! I made you breakfast the other day."

"Der, you made me waffles." This was their normal teasing between them and Cora when the younger Hales crashed at Peter's. 

"So?"

"They were Eggo's that you popped into the toaster. That doesn't count," Stiles gave Kate a 'you see what I deal with?' look and the older woman leaned back in her chair. Stiles was glad to not have to keep looking down Kate's shirt as Derek frowned. 

"It's not like I burned them how Cora does."

Stiles couldn't help but love the puppy eyes. "Your skills of ordering me lattes makes up for your lack of culinary skills. Don't worry, babe," she winked at him before pulling out her phone to check the time. 

At that point, Kate chose to do the same. 

"Oh, look at the time. I'm late to meet up with my friend." Kate stood, grabbing her jacket. "It was nice meeting you Stiles. See you around, Derek," she gave a forced smile and grabbed her coffee before leaving. 

Stiles and Derek stared at each other after Kate's car pulled away from the curb and couldn't help bursting out laughing, drawing the attention of the nearby patrons. 

"Come on," Stiles stood and tugged on the sleeve of Derek's leather jacket. "I want to go for a run."

"I thought she'd never leave." He focused on the hoodie Stiles was wearing then. "Where did you get my sweatshirt from? I've been looking for it for a while now."

"I think you lent it to me when I forgot my coat. I've worn it a few times but it's been hanging in the hall closet for a while. I thought it added a nice touch to the farce."

"I was dating Kate when I got it. Good thinking." He led the way out of the café, holding the door open for Stiles as they left. 

 

***

 

"So what's this I hear from Camilla that my baby brother and Stiles are dating?" Laura asks as she swaggers into the kitchen on Sunday. Peter was at the stove stirring his soup while Stiles looked up from chopping vegetables. 

"What? Who?"

"Camilla. Her dad owns the café on Main. She said her friend Beth works there and saw you two get cozy and that you ran off another woman that was trying to 'poach your man'."

Stiles looked at Derek, who was peeking over Laura's shoulder and the pair burst out laughing. 

"Oh my god. That was Friday. Der called me when I was about to do some laundry and asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend because he stuck his foot in his mouth in front of Kate Argent. I, being the selfless humanitarian that I am," she got a teasing flick on the nose from Peter at that, "went down there to help him out. Kate didn't know what hit her."

"Apparently you were convincing for once," Peter jibed and got a smack in the shoulder from Stiles for his comment. 

"Rude."

"I didn't think you were that convincing," Derek mumbled. 

"Ugh. Please tell me you rude ruffians brought Cora. I need someone that likes me around. And besides, dinner is almost done so get out of my kitchen," Stiles shooed the younger Hales away. 

Peter delicately coughed to clear his throat, "Umm, technically it's my-" 

"You shush and finish your soup," she chided in response and continued chopping veggies. 

 

***

 

It was when Stiles and Peter headed back to Berkeley for her second year that she noticed how quiet their apartment was without the other Hales. She missed all the cuddles and almost felt like something was amiss without all the wolf fur in her room. Peter noticed the change in her scent and became concerned. 

"I think we should go home for Thanksgiving."

Over her laptop, Stiles gave Peter a quizzical look. "I thought you wanted to have a mini Thanksgiving here this year."

"Well, I think I could use a moon run with the pack."

"Okay. I don't have class on Wednesday and my Tuesday afternoon lecture got cancelled so we can leave Tuesday morning after my first class," she agreed before turning back to her essay. 

 

***

 

Upon arriving back at the loft, Stiles was surprised to see Derek sitting up on the couch, hair mussed from sleeping. "Hey. What are you doing here?" Stiles looked over to Peter to see him look unsurprised by his nephew's presence. 

"I uh- I kinda live here, I guess?" Derek replied as he blinked slowly at Stiles. He stood quickly from the couch and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I just kept coming back after you two left and Peter said it was fine so… Yeah," he finished lamely. 

"So where's your stuff?"

"Peter's room. He had more closet space so I just put it all in there." Derek stood there awkwardly, almost looking like he was attempting to make himself smaller and more unassuming, like a beta submitting to their alpha. 

"Oh. Good." Stiles stepped up to the apprehensive werewolf and hugged him with a sigh,"You Hales have ruined my perception of normal. I actually missed all the wolf fur and extra bodies." She pulled back and smiled tiredly, "Missed you too, Der. I always miss you.”

She released his arms but held a hand as she dragged him back onto the big, comfy couch. Peter met Derek's eyes over the back of the couch after Stiles settled against him to nap and motioned to the conked out younger teen, mouthing 'I told you.'

 

***

 

Stiles was surprised to see Doctor Deaton at Thanksgiving dinner that year. She really shouldn't have been surprised as Alan was Talia's emissary, after all. The surprise really came when he asked to speak with Stiles after dinner. Peter nudged her into the study with a reassuring eyebrow quirk and smirk, shutting the door behind them with an audible click. 

"Don't be worried, Stiles. This isn't anything to be worried about. I just wanted to speak with you about your future place in the pack," he reassured. "Why don't we sit?" Deaton took a velour chair beside a matching love seat and motioned for her to sit. 

"So, tell me, Stiles, where do you see yourself in the future?" 

Stiles looked down to her stained, well-worn jeans to avoid the emissary's stare. "Well," she drew in a breath to calm her nerves, "I like living in Berkeley, but I miss the pack when I'm not home. I'm also worried about my dad cheating on his diet, though I'm sure that's not what you meant when you asked."

"No, it's not," Deaton confirmed. 

"Well, aside from that, I don't really know. I mean, Peter and I have kind of been a package deal since forever, but I'm not sure where that puts me in the pack. We're super close and love each other but we're definitely not 'mates-level' in love or even 'marriage' in love. You know?" Deaton stayed silent so Stiles continued, "No one understands that outside of Beacon Hills. They don't get it - us."

"So you are prepared to enter into the pack fully in the coming years?" Alan clarified as he checked his watch. He looked back to see Stiles' vigorous nod. 

"Good. When you're done school in two years, I want you to become my apprentice."

A flustered blush came across Stiles' face as she protested, "Whoa, whoa, whoa there. I don't know how you think plant sciences comes in handy at a vet clinic, but I'm not, nor will I ever be, qualified to treat house pets."

"Stiles, I don't want to apprentice you as a vet assistant. I want you to be my successor as Hale Pack emissary. I know we haven't discussed this yet but do you remember when Peter was catatonic in the hospital after the fire?"

Whiskey eyes met Alan's own chocolate brown ones then proceeded to search his face for an answer. "I remember it a bit. I try not to though. It was when my mom was in the hospital." Alan noted how she fiddled her bare toes together on the area rug beneath her feet as her anxiety grew. 

"Do you remember what you did every day you saw Peter?"

"I… Talked his ears off?"

Laugh lines around the emissary's eyes made a subtle appearance as Deaton chuckled. "Yes, but you also bestowed him a kiss on the cheek to make him feel better. You might not have noticed, but his scars began to heal afterwards. You have a spark, Stiles, and it was lending its power and magic to Peter so he could heal. The way you helped him heal as an untrained child is basically unheard of in normal supernatural circles. Granted, children are known to occasionally show traits at a young age, but mostly just to reach something they can't grasp or the like. You show much promise as a future emissary."

"Wait, what? I have a what? Is that contagious? Why didn't I know?" Her mind reeled on a hundred tangents at once.

Deacon only chuckled in response. "A spark, Stiles. You're a spark just like how I'm a Druid. And I'm sure you've had some idea that you were special all your life, you just didn't have a word for it." she glanced back at his watch a final time before returning his attention to Stiles. "I have to go but I want you to think about my offer. Have a safe trip back to school, Stiles."

 

***

 

The corridor was packed as Stiles left her lecture with Shandra and Abby walking beside her. They were complaining about the pop quiz while Stiles struggled to drop her pencil and extra paper back into her book bag while walking. She hummed in agreement at correct moments due to the pencil perched between her teeth as she attempted to futilely wrestle the sheafs of paper into her closed binder without crumpling them into a complete mess.

"Did anyone get that last question?"

Stiles dropped her pencil with a squeak at the sound of the masculine voice right behind her. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the presence of one rakishly handsome Theodore Raiken and the amused looks on her friends' faces at her indelicate reaction.

"Oh! The classification question?" Abby clarified. Stiles could practically smell her desperation. "I wrote that I thought it was a phenol, I think? What did you get, Theo?"

Theo looked back to Stiles, who hurried to shove the paper in her bag, scrunching them haphazardly in her haste, and dug out her hat. "I wrote that it was an alcohol. There was a hydroxide group on it." He watched Stiles yank on her hat and pointedly not look at him.

"Me too. Great." A quick glance over to Shandra revealed her friend motioning crassly behind Theo's head to Stiles. They were trying to hook her up with cute guys constantly to her disdain.

"Oh really?" Abby started, "Because I thought-"

"So Stiles," Theo walked ahead of the girls, opening the door to the building and holding it open for Shandra, Abby and finally Stiles, "I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner tonight?" 

Stiles looked up at him in shock. "Me? What?"

He chuckled softly, "You're cute. So tonight? What do you think?"

Instant panic set in at the realization that she was getting asked out. By a cute guy that her friend liked a lot more than Stiles did, no less. Then again, Theo Raiken was kind of a creep and weird guys were kind of Abby's type. How on earth does one tactfully say no to a creepy suitor? That was the real problem.

The sunlight glared in her eyes as she shifted her weight onto her right foot and Stiles glanced over Abby's shoulder quickly and caught sight of not only a black Camaro parked in the pickup lane along the street, but the man with tousled dark hair and a leather jacket leaning against it.

"Der?"

"What?" Theo cocked his head in confusion.

"Der!" Stiles shouted and waved frantically before running through the people congregated on the stairs and launching herself into Derek's arms.

"Hey-"

"I need you to kiss me," Stiles whispered quickly.

Derek pulled his head back in confusion. "Wha-" 

And then Stiles was kissing him. Her backpack slipped off her shoulder to the ground with a thud and her arms wove back around Derek before she deepened their kiss with her tongue. The only warning she got was a rumbled growl low in Derek's throat before he hitched her legs up and turned them both about to sit Stiles on the edge of the car hood. He pulled back after another moment and rested his forehead against hers to catch his breath again. "Okay. Nice to see you too, Stiles," he joked and she peered up to see beta gold eyes watching her back.

"You didn't tell me you were coming to visit."

Derek quirked an expressive eyebrow. "Was I supposed to?"

 

***

 

Derek made himself cozy in the apartment and casually rubbed his hands over most soft surfaces within reach. When Stiles told him to drop his stuff in her room while she foraged for a snack, he dutifully saluted her before toeing off his shoes and heading for Stiles room without further prompting. Stiles scrounged up a fig bar and downed a glass of water before noting that Derek wasn't making himself at home on the couch or even in the living area at all. She noted the dark bathroom at the end of the hall with the door open and walked past their shoes down the hallway to investigate his whereabouts. 

She found him stretched out on her bed holding the photo album Talia had given her for her last birthday with a photo of John and Stiles on the front. She vaulted onto the foot of the bed and crawled up the queen-sized monstrosity to look over Derek’s shoulder. The photo he stopped on was the first one in the album; one of Stiles, Cora and Derek as a wolf licking Stiles’ cheek just as the flash went off. Her eyebrows had been scrunched up in reaction to the tongue sliding up her face, mouth open in outraged exclamation mirroring Cora’s own surprised expression. Derek’s thumb stroked the spot on the photo where Stiles arms were wrapped about the neck of the black wolf as he smiled.

They flipped through with pictures of Stiles from infant to college student. Her parents holding her after her birth, at the archery range in Berkeley with Allison and Scott (Allison’s adorable boyfriend), Fourth of July barbecues, birthdays, prom, her Dad, her Mom, the Hales. Stiles cuddled up to Derek’s chest, his arm repositioned around her back with her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes while he looked through the photos.

“Why did you kiss me earlier?”

“Hmm?” Stiles hummed and looked up at Derek’s face near hers.

Derek closed the book and set it aside, “Why did you want me to kiss you earlier? You never said why?”

“This creepy guy asked me out-”

She felt him tense beneath her head and hand on his chest. “The one that cornered you on the way out?” His tone was serious.

“Yeah, Why?”

“He’s a were. I could smell it. And he can probably smell us on you too. I don’t like it.”

“Oh. I never realized. I guess I didn’t hang out with too many humans when I was growing up. You all seem so normal to me.” Stiles gave a half-shrug. “I think he’s creepy; too intense and not my type.”

“Isn’t crazy your type?” Derek asked sarcastically.

“Nah, that’s yours, remember?”

She looked up at him to see Derek watching her intently. He lifted his hand to her cheek and stroked his thumb over her high cheekbone that flushed slightly at the ministrations. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how to say it. 

They laid in silence for a minute before Stiles asked, “Hey Der?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did your eyes turn gold when I kissed you?”

Derek moved beside her until they could look each other straight in the eyes. “Tell me to stop.”

“Wha-?”

His lips were on hers and she felt his tongue asking for entry into her mouth to which she obliged and reciprocated as he crawled above her.

Then she realized it. 

‘I’m kissing Derek. Holy shit.’

Derek pulled back for air and his eyes were shining gold again. “I love you Stiles. I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“For the love of God, Derek! That’s not how you spring a confession on a girl!” Peter shouted down the hall as he walked into the apartment. “Have I taught you nothing of decorum and regular human interactions? For fucks sake,” his voice faded towards the kitchen as Stiles burst out in hysterical laughter.

“Thanks, I’ll see myself out,” Derek deflated as Stiles continued her air-deprived laughs at his expense. He got up and heard, “Wait!” between Stiles’ giggles when he was tackled from behind. 

“I was laughing at Peter’s cock blocking, not you, Der. I’m sorry. I promise that I love you too and I won’t laugh at your feelings again.”

“Wait, what did you say?”

“Just kiss her already you imbecile!” Peter chimed in from the other room as he put away the groceries he carried in. He huffed a sigh as the refrigerator door closed and rolled his eyes. “Children.”


End file.
